A Nightmare's Eve
by RaingerLeigh
Summary: After being enslaved by The Mountain, her fight for freedom becomes more complicated than she had ever imagined.


_**I will keep quiet**_

She kept her tiny mouth shut, only speaking when spoken to. She kept her summer green eyes to the ground, weary of the beatings he would give her. She was trapped in this hell, and she knew the best thing to do was behave herself until she found a way out. It would do no good to try and escape if she got herself beaten half to death. She would be too weak to make it far enough away that she might have a shot at freedom. For now, until she found an escape, she would just have to be patient and serve him with a smile.

_**You won't even know I'm here**_

She was like a mouse, scurrying across the stone floor carrying more food and drinks than a girl her size should have been able to carry. With each heavy tray of food she brought out, her arms ached more and more, but she didn't dare say a word. She wouldn't dare ask for help, or if the platters could be just a little bit lighter, or perhaps not quite as scalding hot. She simply bit her tongue in silence and continued to do her duties as she was told. She would arrive, serve the men their food, and disappear into the shadows before anyone even realized she was there. The feast was for _them_ to enjoy, not her.

_**You won't suspect a thing**_

He wouldn't know it until it was too late. Though she was long from executing it, she had devised a simple plan to kill him, or at least temporarily incapacitate him, and keep herself out of harm's way in the process. She would poison him, and when he was laying on his deathbed, she would escape. She didn't care if he lived after that. She just wanted freedom. As long as the toxins worked as planned, she would be able to get away long before he was cured. It was a shame Sophia wasn't around to escape with her.

_**You won't see me in the mirror**_

She had become his own personal slave. She found it odd, and frightening, that such a monstrous man would demand she alone be the one to bring him intimate things, such as clothing and sheets. She was apprehensive, remaining silent until he ordered her to sing for him. Her soft voice filled the room as he shaved. As the words left her pink lips, she thought back to when she was captured. She was only ten-and-three when the Mountain rode through their village and killed most of the inhabitants. She, her sister, and a few others who swore fealty were kept alive and thrown into a cage. As they were taken back to his castle, she held her younger sister and begged the gods for help. A short three years later, her sister was dead from childbirth. When the song came to an end, she noticed he turned to look at her. She realized he couldn't see her in the mirror, and why he'd wanted her to sing.

_**But I crept into your heart**_

She had, over the years, managed to somewhat endear herself to him. The beatings had nearly stopped, and were now only given if she actually did something wrong. He even began to fight off some of the others who had taken it upon themselves to dish out their own punishment on her. It wasn't much in the way of kindness, and it was no assurance that he himself would not beat her to a bloody pulp, but knowing that Gregor Clegane's wrath would fall on them if they mistreated her kept them far enough away to give her some breathing room. For the first time since he'd thrown her into that cage, she actually felt at ease.

_**You can't make me disappear**_

Every time he needed something done, she was the one to do it. He wanted her away, yet she was always there, tending his every need like the obedient slave she was. It was infuriating to always have her so close, yet maddening when she was away. He hated it, but he did not punish her for it. He could see a different light in her eyes. Beneath her raven-black hair and pale skin, she was warming up to him. He could see that she no longer loathed him as much as when he'd first stolen her from her home, though she was far and away from being at ease around him. He could see better than anyone that she was no longer the frightened little sparrow. Nowadays, she sang like a lovely mockingbird, able to give him whatever song he desired to hear. She was the only one he ever _asked_ to sing. No longer did he order it, or beat it out of her. Instead, it was a gruff request.

_**I made myself at home**_

She had, by now, learned all of the corridors and hallways, the rooms and hideaways; she had come to know the very infrastructure of the castle by heart. If ever she needed to escape the taunting and threats of Clegane's men, she knew where to go so they would not find her. If ever she was running late, she knew the quickest way to her destination. She could direct the others to the room they were needed in without hesitation. Some of the men took notice of this and reported it to their leader, who called her to his room. When asked for her reason, she simply said, "Well, when a bird is caged long enough, she begins to learn every small detail of her cage. This castle is hardly different. Same as a cage, only bigger."

It was the first time he'd laughed in front of her as a compliment. For once, he was laughing at her _dry humor_, and not at _her_.

_**In the cobwebs and the lies**_

He hadn't bothered to order any of them to clean. He was hardly around anymore and didn't care of the cobwebs accumulating. She went out of her way to see to it that the spiders and their webs were dealt with, and when none volunteered, she began to do it herself. Though she herself was more than hoping a spider would bite him on the neck and kill him, she wouldn't accept putting herself in danger as well. Aside from it being repulsive, if the slave quarters were the only places kept clean, they would all get a beating for not treating the rest of the castle with the same care. Though it was one reason, she lied when she said it. She wasn't doing this to prevent a beating. _She_ was doing it because she honestly wanted it clean.

_**I'm learning all your tricks**_

Every little tick was noted. Everything that seemed to hurt him was closely observed and remembered. She would see him batter the men who compared him to his father, or grandfather. He would pummel the slaves who mentioned his temper, not caring the slightest that they were the ones preparing his meals and cleaning his armor. He would torture those who criticized his swordsmanship until they begged for death. Though they seemed nothing more than trivial annoyances at their most vicious, she could see the spark of hurt. It was just for a moment, but she knew it was there. She took to heart everything that set him off, and she remembered every little way to hurt him.

_**I can hurt you from inside**_

It was just a simple sentence, but it nearly threw him into a rage. She had brought him a flagon of ale, as he had requested. He was cleaning his greatsword, pausing only to pat the empty space beside him. Taken aback, she hesitated before sitting beside him. She was so tiny compared to him, like a lion to an ant, but the sting of her bite was felt just the same. Holding it up for her to see, it gleamed in the ray of light the sun cast into the room. It was a beautiful ghostly grey. No bloodstains marred its elegance as it glistened in his hand. He asked her if she liked it. She nodded and said it was a lovely blade. When he dismissed her, she set the flagon down on the table beside the bed. Just before she closed the door behind her, she paused. He looked up to see her standing there, a ray of light shining on her and making her look almost angelic.

"It's a shame such a blade has been sullied by a man with such a temper. It dishonors your ancestors, Lord Clegane." She whispered, a mocking smile on her porcelain face. Before he could stand, the door had closed and she was gone. His grip on the blade turned his knuckles white as he grew furious. He didn't see her again that day.

_**I made myself a promise**_

She knew what she had done was cruel, but so was what he had done to her. Her sharp words had cut to the bone, and though he summoned her several times, she did not appear before him. She kept to the safety of the darkness. He saw her the next day and drug her back to his bedchamber, throwing her into the room. He watched as she staggered forward, managing to keep her balance. The ragged dress she wore was surprisingly clean, as though she'd just washed it. He slapped her hard with the back of his hand, slicing open the inside of her cheek. As her pale skin turned a bright red, he grabbed a fistful of her black hair and warned her never to speak to him in such a way ever again. In another brilliant act of defiance, she commented that his temper was worse than the day before. Slowly, he released his grip on her.

_**You would never see me cry**_

The look of fearlessness in her eyes was something he'd never seen from a woman before. Everyone feared him. Everyone hated him. Everyone, it seemed, except her. She wasn't afraid of him, but there was no look of rebellion in her eyes. He felt a sort of respect for her as he removed his large hand from her hair. She stood up to him without enticing the others to rebel against his tyranny. She made it clear to him that she still had a will of her own, even if she wasn't using it. He sent her back to her room, staring at the door long after she had left. When she was back in the slave quarters, she broke down, a smile on her face. She had stood up to him, filled to insanity with fear, and won.

_**I will be here**_

She began to stay in her room more often. Away from the troubles of his men, she at least got a bit of time to herself. She would wait for him to send for her, usually only occupying herself with the quick, trivial tasks that the others didn't have time to get to. She made sure she was always able to drop what she was doing if she was needed elsewhere, and that pleased him. She was _his_ little slave after all, and the thought of her sitting patiently, waiting to be needed, made him feel powerful, and…happy.

_**When you think you're all alone**_

She was, it seemed, always just out of sight. All he had to do was say her name and within seconds, she was by his side, asking what he needed. It was a luxury he'd never had before, and one has wasn't keen to give up. He stopped sending her off to do dangerous things like caring for the hunting dogs, or seeing to the men's rooms. He had seen what they would do to the unfortunate women they happened upon, and he didn't want them getting hold of his little mockingbird. He didn't want to admit it, but he wanted to keep her safe. At least now, it seemed as though she was always close by, even when he felt as though he was alone, giving him one less thing to worry with.

_**Seeping through the cracks**_

Her very presence seemed to have become ingrained in the castle. Every stone, every torch, even the windows seemed to resonate her presence. So long as he was within those walls, he could get no relief, no break from her curious antics. Late at night, when everyone was asleep, he could swear he could hear her singing, but nobody else could confirm it. When she was off to town, he could swear he'd see her shadow out of the corner of his eye. It was beginning to drive him mad.

_**I'm the poison in your bones**_

She had it. She had finally gotten what she needed. The medicine woman had called it "Sleeping Nettle" and claimed it would put any man into a near-death state. With as close as she'd grown to the Mountain, she was relieved—although if, in the circumstance he never woke up, she'd be fine—to hear that he would survive. Now, all she needed was a plan to get the poison to him without drawing suspicion.. She spent hours pondering the best method when out of the blu, it hit her. She knew exactly what to do, and he'd never suspect a thing.

_**My love is your disease**_

She hid it in a small jar beneath her bed and began hiding mint leaves throughout the castle. She loved the smell, though that wasn't entirely its purpose. Sleeping Nettle smelled remarkably like crushed mint leaves, and she thought the best way to mask the scent would be to make the whole castle smell like it. It wasn't as though it was hurting anything, either. When confronted by the Mountain as to why the castle smelled "just like that damned teahouse beside the blacksmith," she simply smiled innocently and said she liked the smell of mint. As she returned to cleaning the dishes, she mentioned something about wanting to freshen up the place.

_**I won't let it set you free**_

He nearly kicked himself for declining to join his men when they suggested visiting the local brothel. He'd never had reason to turn down the offer before, and he shouldn't have now, but something was holding him back. The girl. He lied, claiming he was too busy for whores at the moment. They looked at him as though he had three heads. A man was _never_ too busy for whores! A disapproving look sent them on their way without another word. He sighed and swatted the flagon of water away. Grumbling about the mess, he yelled for his mockingbird. Within moments, she was there, nearly falling over herself as she stopped in the doorway and tried to avoid stepping in the water. Before he'd said a word, she had already scurried off. She was back after just a few moments, a few large towels bundled in her arms. As she began the spread them out to prevent the water from going any further, he slammed the door shut, hoisted her thin body up, and tossed her on the bed like a ragdoll.

_**Til I break you**_

Her eyes were wide with fear as he pinned her down with one hand and began removing his clothes with the other.

"Wait! Please!"

He paused for a moment as she stopped squirming beneath his grasp. Calming herself down a bit, she took a breath and suggested he not just pin her down and rape her. She figured if it was going to happen—and it was—that at least he not just brutalize her.

"Don't you think there's a better way to go about this? I mean, how would you know I wasn't willing? Don't you think that maybe if you had just asked, I might have agreed to it and you wouldn't _have_ to pin me down? Think about it for a moment. You let me up, and we'll make this better than strangling me while you half-ass try to undress yourself, alright?" she suggested, her voice shaky. After a moment of silence, he let her up. She moved back farther onto the bed, crossing her legs as he stood in front of her, waiting for her to make this wasted time worth it.

_**You'll never know what hit you**_

"I'd be a lot more receptive to the whole 'gonna fuck your brains out' idea if you'd take a moment to offer it instead of force me into it. You raped my sister, and we all know how _that_ turned out. _I_ was under the impression you liked having me around. You know as well as anyone that when you frighten a caged bird, she's going to try and squeeze through the bars, even if she kills herself in the process. So how's about you be a bit more gentle and I might be willing to make this a 'more than once' type of thing, eh?" she suggested, looking up at him. The look on his face revealed that he was indeed considering her proposal. After all, having his own personal whore wouldn't be a bad thing.

_**Won't see me closing in**_

It happened on a relatively frequent basis. Any time she wasn't on her moonblood, he could have his way with her. At first, she was hesitant, and that frustrated him to no end, but he kept up his end of the bargain. He wasn't rough with her, and found she more than made up for her hesitancy with her willingness to cooperate. She would answer his late-night summoning in a thin nightgown that always seemed to cling to her body in just the right places. He would bite her neck and grope her breasts, listening for her soft squeaks and whimpers. He wasn't too terribly rough with her, as he always wanted her ready and able when the mood struck him. He even took care not to destroy her clothing when he tore it off her. He didn't want her roaming the castle naked, and clothing was a necessity that she refused to do without, so he was much more gentle than he would have been otherwise. The thought of her being able to change such violent behavior brought a grin to her face. Everything was going exactly as she planned.

_**I'm gonna make you suffer**_

She could get away with a lot, and the other slaves loathed her for it. They eyed her as though she were the tyrant himself, and they began excluding her from things. The other slaves avoided her as though she were another of Clegane's irritable men, and they taunted her. They would call her a traitor, and they would harass her with spiteful curiosities. They drove her to tears with their foul words and chased her out of the slave quarters. One man, Solomon, offered her his cloak when he saw her sitting outside, shivering in the cold. She graciously accepted it, thanking him as he helped her to her feet and led her back inside.

_**This hell you put me in**_

Isolated, she grew irritable. She grew less and less willing to please him as the others continued to give her dirty looks. She was an outcast among outcasts, and she hated it. She ignored his summons in favor of cleaning the slaves quarters, and even refused to speak with his men. She figured if she was to be rejected from the other slaves, then she would make Gregor suffer as well, since it was _his_ actions that had led to this point. She was angry with his taking notice of her, of his favor of her, and even his leniency regarding her actions. She wanted to again be a part of the family that had comforted her through the death of her sister, and because of him, they had cast her out and abandoned her.

_**I'm underneath your skin**_

Her annoyances were affecting _him_, and he wouldn't tolerate it any longer. He entered the slaves' quarters and informed them that if any more nonsense went on, he'd whip them all himself. To his dismay, it only caused her more grief. They accused her of convincing him to punish them if they didn't please her, throwing whatever they could find at her. She left the slave quarters for the last time that night, covered in cuts and bruises and tears. The next morning, half a dozen of them were taken out and lashed until they were near dead. He commanded his men to leave them to bake in the heat, letting them die a slow death. Alone, she asked him not to do such horrendous things again. He looked at her, bewildered, as she asked him to not treat them so viciously, as she very clearly understood their hatred for her.

_**The devil within**_

Even after they he'd made examples of some of them, they still refused to see her as one of them. She was no longer a slave in their eyes. Now, she was one of Gregor's soldiers. She was an instrument of war, regardless of whether or not she knew it. She was the only one who could quell his fierce anger. She was the slave who rose to be much more than a walking corpse. She was the infiltrator, and it was possible that she could be the savior of _all_ the slaves and not just herself. She had been accepted as another human being by the Mountain himself, and his approval was all it took to gain a shield from the others who sought to abuse her.

_**You'll never know what hit you**_

He was growing tired of the absence of her presence. She'd refused to answer him, flat out ignoring his summons in favor of staying hidden in the shadows. Then, as suddenly as she'd vanished, she reappeared. She began answering his callings as though nothing was wrong. Her apparent lack of care on the subject made him wonder what she was playing at, but he wasn't about to complain. All he'd wanted was for her to stop avoiding him, and he'd got his wish, but it came at a cost. She no longer gave him her full attention. It was as though she'd gone back to the mentality of being just another slave. He wasn't sure what was going on with her, but he desperately wanted to find out.

_**I tried to be the lover to your nightmare**_

He called her to his room that night, for the first time in his life unsure of what to do. He'd always taken what he wanted, no questions asked, yet here he was, about to _ask_ something of _her_. It frustrated him and angered him and made him feel weak, but something about her made him not really care. She made him realize that his army would not crumble if he asked her nicely for something. She was kind enough to preserve his reputation, and never let the others think otherwise. His power remained unquestioned only because _she_ allowed it. To the rest of them, he was a monster, a vicious beast that only Tywin could even think of controlling. To her, he was a tyrant who was willing to make an exception to his reign of terror.

_**Look what you made of me**_

She entered the room wearing a thin, white cotton gown. It was still rather warm, so she hadn't thought to wear something heavy. Quietly closing the heavy door behind her, she looked up to see him staring at her. There was a strange look in his eyes that she'd never seen before. It frightened her, but she approached him anyways. He was leaning against the wall, the light from the moon illuminating him in a surprisingly inviting way. He walked to her slowly, his arms crossed over his chest. Taking a deep breath, he quietly asked her to forgive him for what he'd done. He didn't look her in the eyes, thinking that spark of joy would taunt him into doing something she _couldn't_ forgive.

"Lookit. I've made the Mountain ask forgiveness from a little girl. I've turned to big bad wolf into a begging puppy. My oh my, the power a woman has over a man is truly something to behold. I suppose I should forgive you, seeing how good you've treated me over these past few months. I suppose I'll let the past stay as it should, and turn my eyes to the future instead."

_**Now I'm a heavy burden that you can't bear**_

The next morning, when she went to fetch his water, she instead used the Sleeping Nettle. She had been soaking it for a few days, and now was the time to use it. She mixed the potent concoction into his water, taking care not to spill a drop. While he was still asleep, she crept in and silently placed the flagon and cup on the desk, along with a note informing him that a few of the slaves had decided to try a new mixture, rumored to help ward off any looming ailments. As she slipped out, she heard him begin to move around, signaling that he would be awake very soon. She rushed to the slaves quarters and threw all of her few belongings in a sack. She snuck out while all of the men were in the feasting hall, taking care to stay out of sight as often as she could. Within the next few minutes, Clegane would be collapsing into a coma, and only time would be able to rouse him.

_**Look what you made of me**_

Chaos was everywhere. Clegane was bedridden and nearly dead, the hounds couldn't catch her scent, and she was several miles away by now. Nobody had noticed one little slave girl had gone missing, and nobody made the connection between her and Clegane's sudden illness. By the time they thought to question the slaves, she was already long gone. They all looked at each other in confusion, stating that none of them had access to any kind of substance that would cause such a shocking reaction so quickly. Many of them were beaten to death before one woman mentioned Clegane's little whore spreading mint leaves about after a trip to town. Sure enough, they found the pot where she'd been soaking the Nettle beneath her bed.

_**Look what you made of me**_

She found a small, abandoned house deep in the woods and took refuge in it. As long as they didn't think to look here, she might make it out alive. It was a battered old house, but with a few weeks of fixing, it was good enough to live in. A few months later, and she was able to relax. Though Gregor was back on his feet with a temper as nasty as ever, she no longer jumped at every strange noise, nor did she run to hide when the occasional wanderer ventured near. She was at ease, and she'd never been happier.

_**I'll make you see**_

A year. She had survived a year out of his grasp, and he had no idea where she was. He couldn't hunt her down, couldn't drag her back. For all he knew, she was hiding somewhere in Essos now, and there was no way he'd be able to make that long of a trip without a few too many people asking questions. She was free to do as she pleased now, with no worries of being hunted down like an animal, no fears of being stolen away in the dead of night. She was a free woman now, and so long as she had a say in it, that's how things would stay.

_**You'll never know what hit you**_

It would be two years in just a few days. She smiled with relief as she climbed out of bed. Two years, and he still hadn't found her. Her dreams of freedom were finally a reality, and nothing could stop her now. She'd heard rumors that Gregor was leaving for King's Landing. She nearly cheered at the thought of him being far enough away for her to run about in the open as she pleased if she so desired. Still, there was a nagging darkness in the back of her mind. It was a notion that was easily dismissed, but as time wore on, it festered.

_**Won't see me closing in**_

Nearing the end of her third year of freedom, she migrated back to the small town just a few miles away from the castle. She couldn't help but feel as though some noticeable part of her was missing. She had lived her life as she pleased, done whatever her heart desired, and yet she still could not find peace. It was as though her soul had been left in that dreaded castle, never to stray from its walls. She took a few deep breaths, trying to remind herself that freedom was much better than being held against her will, yet…the harder she tried to convince herself, the less she believed it.

_**I'm gonna make you suffer**_

It had been four years on that very day, and she could almost feel him crawling beneath her skin, his voice beckoning her back. She had to fight it off, praying to the gods that she could make it through one more day of freedom. It was no way to live, but at least she didn't have to worry about the constant, looming threat of beatings. She could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, and nobody could tell her otherwise. She was free! At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

_**This hell you put me in**_

Night after night, it was always the same. A monstrous shadow wrapping its hands around her tiny neck and choking the life from her. The Mountain stood in the background looking over her, glaring at her and telling her she was a fool for trying to escape. She would sit up in bed as the dream passed, leaving her breathless and terrified. Gregor hadn't laid a hand on her in several months before she'd escaped. In fact, he'd been far more lenient than ever before, so why she was having nightmares about his anger confused her. She was, again, stuck in her own personal hell, all because of him.

_**I'm underneath your skin**_

He would toss and turn, her voice wreaking havoc on his mind, refusing to let him sleep. She would cry out for him to let her go, to let her leave with her sister, but before he could move, she lay dead at his feet, her neck snapped as his men laughed at her corpse. They taunted him for his weakness, and threw him into a rage. He would wake up in anger, refusing to return to the nightmare as he grabbed his sword and headed downstairs. He would train until daylight, when his mind would finally release her image. His men watched with questioning eyes as he stumbled back to his room for one more attempt at a bit of rest.

_**The devil within**_

The little voice in her head kept nagging her. It kept telling her that she wasn't whole anymore, that she needed him to survive, and sadly, a part of her believed it. She felt incomplete, as though a large piece of her life was gone. She had felt that way since she'd made her escape, and nothing could fill that void. Five years of emptiness, and she finally decided she had to find a reason to go back. Several days later, she saw one of Clegane's men. He was one of the kinder followers, not beating her for every little thing. She asked if he would take her back with him, saying she had a bit of unfinished business with the Mountain.

_**You'll never know what hit you**_

They watched in shock as she made her way through the corridors she'd learned over the years. Even after five years, she was still familiar with every nook and cranny. She'd been free, but something felt missing. She was frightened and alone, and the back of his hand was the only touch she'd known in twelve years. She needed him, and she would return to him. If he would not have her, then she would let him kill her, but if she was allowed to stay, she felt she would never leave the walls of this hell again. Not alive, anyways.

_**The devil within**_

It was several days later that he ordered her into his bedchamber. She was to see him following morning. She sat by his side as he woke, tending him as a mother to her child, or a wife to her husband; a paramour to her lover. She was quiet as a mouse, and pale as snow, her green eyes bright with new life, and the need to reveal what she had done. She was his own little caged bird, but she had flown back into the cage of her own desire. She felt a sort of connection to him, a sense of belonging when she was near him. As he sat up in the large bed, she looked down at the flagon of water in her hands.

"It was me. I did it."

_**You'll never know what hit you**_

A few of the slaves buried her beside her sister, saying a prayer and wishing her soul peace as they began to replace the dirt, concealing her pale, lifeless body. Her throat had been slit, not by the Mountain as many assumed, but by one of his men. The Mountain had cleaved the attacker in two before ordering the captives to put her in the ground. His name was the last word on her lips. His anger was not hidden for the next several weeks. The slaves did what they could to stay out of his way.

His little bird was gone, and though her assailant was dead, he felt no relief. There had been something special about her, something different. He'd felt at ease around her, something he'd never experienced before. He certainly wouldn't have called it love, but, she was special to him. She was the ray of light that he couldn't stop chasing. He named his greatsword after her, though he never used it again. The pale, ghostly blade she'd called 'lovely' was mounted on the wall in his room. Beneath it, a small nameplate with one word etched into the reflective metal: Celeste.


End file.
